So we ordered the event on pay-per-view and found the only Native New Yorker in the valley that wasn't showing the fight and would therefore still have tables available. We found a nice little family oriented establishment in Mesa and I watched as my roommates Josef and Travers each ordered 24 wings.
Not to be outdone I ordered myself the double bakers dozen and said "Let's do this." Actually I didn't really say that, but I thought it.
Between the conversation, observance of sports on the various tv's, and video poker we were playing, I was able to consume the first 24 without much effort.
When our waitress came out, Travis commented that he could easily eat 6 more. I said "Let's do it," (out loud this time) and so I placed my order for 6 more wings. Joe then ordered 7 more and Trav ordered an extra 8. I knew this game could go on for a while, so I coyly waited until the server was about to leave our table and then said, "oh, and can I get three more honey hot?" She nodded h
er head, quickly wrote it down and walked away before we started with our old games. The 2nd batch didn't go down as fast or as easy for me as the first 24. I was able to identify a few reasons.1- This was the worst Native New Yorker we ever ate at, the wings tasted like they were maybe a little over cooked or something. I just know they weren't quite right.
2- 2 Diet Cherry Cokes and all the carrots and celery from the previous wings were squeezing out the available space in my stomach.
3- It took a while for the wings to come out, effectively breaking my rhythm and giving my body time to realize what was happening to it.
Despite these challenges, I finished the next 9 wings putting my consumption at an absurd total of 33. Knowing well that the most Travis had ever consumed was 38, I figured this might be my only shot to go beyond his accomplishments.
When our server returned, I asked for 6 more wings. Joe looked at me scornfully and said, "you're going to eat 39 wings . . . not 40?"
There are two things I refuse to do in this life. The first is cocaine, and the second is disappoint Joe Strickland. (Yes, that Joe Strickland) So I ordered 7 more wings.
My pace slowed down considerably as I was given more time between orders to let all the food in my stomach settle. The last 3 were completely miserable.
The only reason I finished was because Joe kept saying that he knew I wouldn't. What can I say, I'm a guy. We rise to the competition over completely stupid things. And for the first and only time in my life, I ate more than Travis and Joe. For one night, I was the big winner. And the next morning? . . . I was by far the biggest loser. Ugh
